


Colourful Anger

by Psychopathic_Nerd54



Series: Dem Salty Bois (and friends) One Shots [1]
Category: Dem Salty Bois - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Also there's paint everywhere, Anger, Dem Salty Bois - Freeform, Gar is actually the best boyfriend ever, Gar's a sap, M/M, Pat's an angry hoe, paint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 07:59:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopathic_Nerd54/pseuds/Psychopathic_Nerd54
Summary: Pat's angry. Gar's there to comfort him and make him feel loved.





	Colourful Anger

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Wattpad, I am currently going back through all my posts on there, revising/rewriting them, and posting them on here as well as updating them on there. Hope you (whoever may be reading this if there's anyone) enjoys the first of my one-shots that's being transferred onto here from Wattpad. :)

The first thing Gar noticed when he got home was the music. He had noticed it from the end of the hallway but he had previously assumed it was just one of their neighbors being rude. What he didn't account for was that it was coming from his apartment. That he was the rude neighbor in this scenario.

The second thing Gar noticed was the stench of paint wafting through the air upon entering his apartment. He wrinkled his nose at the smell; he had never been too fond of the scent of paint. He didn't even know where there was paint to be had here.

The third thing Gar noticed was the atmosphere. He could practically feel the annoyance and anger that was emitting from somewhere in this mess. He knew that Pat was mad, Gar could tell without even being in the same room as him. How to approach his pissed boyfriend, however, was a different story. The safest option would probably be to run in the opposite direction, but that would not be smart. Gar decided to approach it subtly, act nonchalant about it.

"Patrck?" Gar asked loudly into the depth of his apartment, where his voice was getting drowned out by the sounds of the loud music playing. "Babe, where are you?"

No answer was received. Well, no answer Gar could hear, at least. But that was to be expected, there was no way he was speaking louder than that blasted music and even if he managed to, there was no way he was going to be able to hear Patrck over it. He decided to just follow the music. As he made his way further into the flat, the smell got stronger and the music got louder. At some point in the trek, Gar had to give in and cover his ears to attempt to at least stifle the noise a little bit, to no avail. This was the point when the man seriously contemplated turning back and pretending he saw nothing and just coming back in a few hours or so. That did seem like the wiser option, after all.

However, Gar slowly continued on. It wasn't long until he got to the door in which the music was emitting. The first thing he noticed was poor little Dante curled up next to it whimpering with something (is that paint?) all over him. Gar sighed deeply before opening the door slowly, cautiously, even.

The scene Gar was faced with disturbed him to his core and created a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. There in front of him stood a very pissed off Patrck Static, shirtless, surrounded by buckets of various paint, covered head to toe in a multitude of colours, dipping his hands in the buckets, and flinging the paint across the room at all angles at walls that were covered in some kind of large paper. The smell was nothing but pungent to Gar and the sight made his heart hurt so bad he felt nauseous. He knew Pat could get pretty pissed but this was worse than anything he had ever seen.

There was a stereo next to the door, which was playing something really loud and obnoxious that was probably just there for the effect of it more than for any actual entertainment. Patrck didn’t even seem to notice its existence in his rage. In fact, he didn’t seem to be noticing anything. He was too lost in thought, and Gar could see the engines turning in his brain. He could see the destructiveness of his thoughts; the train was bouncing off walls and gliding past holes in its tracks, almost skidding off at each, mere minutes away from crashing in a vast explosion of self-destruction if the conductor didn’t get its engines under control. 

And the conductor was nowhere to be found.

Gar stood there for a few minutes, hands still covering his ears, just frozen at the sight of his boyfriend in the state he was in, violently flinging paint against the walls and making little furious noises that Gar would have found cute in any other situation. Right now, however, the scene was just painful to watch.

Gar came to a decision after a few moments of nothing, walking over to the stereo and turning it off completely. 

The lack of noise seemed to snap Pat from his trance and he screamed at the intruder he had only just come to notice. "HEY!" Pat turned towards the door angrily, flicking whatever paint was currently dripping from his hands at Gar in the process, causing the latter to turn into a mixture of pink and purple splatters. Not that he cared about that at the moment; Pat’s mental state was his priority.

Slowly, Gar made his way up to his fuming boyfriend until he was standing directly in front of him. Pat just stared at him with a bit of a glare, chest rising and falling in short spurts of rage, fists clenching and unclenching by his side. Gar silently hoped he’d be able to leave this situation undamaged, but he knew Pat wouldn’t hurt him (intentionally) so he felt pretty safe standing in front of him in this moment, even if Pat did currently look like he needed a punching bag.

"Patrck..." Gar started quietly, hoping to calm his boyfriend with his voice. However, the calmness Gar expressed only seemed to enrage Pat more as he looked away, turning back around to continue splattering paint. "Pat, what's wrong?" 

"Go away, Gar." Pat grumbled, sticking his right hand in the green and launching it as hard as he could at the wall, causing what could easily be compared to fireworks come to life. The paint splattered violently, bouncing back at the two men, drops landing softly at their feet, not quiet reaching them, but coming close. Dante could be heard scratching at the door, whimpering and bOrking at them, but besides that it went almost silent in that room, dripping paint being the only other sound protruding.

Gar let out another sigh and moved to stand in front of Patrck again, who froze in his movements of throwing a collection of green, pink, and yellow aimlessly across the room. A few drops still managed to leave Pat’s hand, landing softly on Gar’s face, causing him to flinch slightly at the sudden cold substances on his skin. The rest of the paint Pat managed to grab was dripping from his fingers as he stared at his boyfriend, a glare masking his features. 

"Get out of my way." Pat mumbled, annoyance oozing from his voice much like the paint was oozing from his fingers.

"Not until you talk to me, Patrck.” Gar stated finally, not leaving any room for debate in his tone.

"Gar...” Patrck's voice had a warning edge to it, which Gar payed little to no attention to.

"Pat..." The latter mocked.

Pat just responded with an annoyed grunt, his glare deepening, yet he said nothing. 

Gar gently laid his hands on Patrck's shoulders, who tensed at the touch, clenching his fists once more. "What's wrong, Pat?" 

"Nothing," The annoyed man grumbled. His hair - which was died a multitude of random colours due to the paint, some of which blended together to create new colours entirely - was falling into his eyes. Pat jerked his head to the side violently to try to fix it, to no avail. Gar smirked at the cute sight in front of him.

"Are you sure about that?" Gar tried to tease with the intent of lightening the mood. His efforts were evidently shot down once more.

"Yes, Gar," Pat snapped back, pushing the man’s hands off of his shoulders roughly. "I'm sure. Nothing’s wrong, just leave me the fuck alone."

Gar's smirk widened. "Well, what if I don't believe you?"

"Then that's your problem."

Patrck turned away from his boyfriend once more, this time letting his eyes fall shut. He found himself focusing in his breathing to try to calm his heart rate, which would have been more effective if Gar hadn’t made his way back in front of him, a plan in mind. The shorter man stuck his finger in the bucket in front of him, covering his finger in blue. 

"Hmm, this looks like a productive way to let go of anger." Gar mocked as Pat’s eyes shot open, an unamused look reaching Gar’s highly amused one. He reached up and booped Pat's nose with his blue finger, leaving a little dot that Gar couldn’t help but giggle at slightly.

All Pat could do was stare. "Gar, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Cheering you up!" The smiling man declared like it was the most obvious thing in the world, only to receive an eye roll and an empty chuckle from his boyfriend.

"Well, you're doing a poor job at it." Pat blatantly stated.

"Am I? Am I really?" 

And with that, Gar tackled Patrck to the ground, pinning him down, finding all his ticklish spots with ease. Pat squirmed underneath him, bursting out into uncontrollable fits of adorable giggles. The buckets around them were being knocked over and paint was spilling everywhere. Pat could feel a cold, wet substance make its way down his bare back, causing him to involuntarily arch upwards into Gar. 

And here lies the domino effect: the sudden thrust of Pat’s hips upward in response to the feeling crawling up his back caused Gar’s hand that was holding him up to slip, making him fall, landing on top of his boyfriend, chest to chest, faces mere inches apart.

Gar could feel Pat’s heart beating against his own. Calm, steady, heartbeats laid against rapid, dangerous ones. All Gar could find it in him to do was to stare down at Patrck with loving eyes. Loving eyes that met the continued glare that suddenly seemed more playful than anything, yet still held some rage to it.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. One moment, they were staring at each other, their hearts syncing to form the perfect song against one another, one of anger and peace; the next Pat was pushing at Gar’s chest in an attempt to get the shorter man off of him, when suddenly Patrck found his hands being pinned above his head, a playful smirk playing at his captor’s lips. 

“Let me go.” Pat demanded of his boyfriend.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” 

The older groaned. “It’s none of your business, Gar.”

“Maybe not but as your boyfriend, as someone who loves you and cares about you and wants nothing more than to see you happy, I’m just asking you to consider telling me so I can try to help you feel better.” Pat seemed to be taken aback by that response and the intensity in Gar’s gaze. “Or am I going to be forced to use extreme methods to make you smile?” 

“More extreme than tackling me to the ground and tickling me?” Pat deadpanned, the unamused look returning to his face. Gar gave a soft smile, releasing one of Pat’s hands to lovingly caress his face as he stared down into his eyes, nothing but love shining through his expression. 

Gar sat up in this moment, keeping eye contact with the man underneath him. The hand that was previously on Patrck’s cheek was brought down, trailing softly against his skin, until it landed on the center of his chest. Pat watched the hand as it moved, basking in the feeling of Gar’s skin against his own, even if he wouldn’t admit to it at the time. Gar could tell, though. Maybe it was the way Pat’s heart seemed to speed up when his hand came to a rest on his chest or maybe it was the sudden and undeniable change in atmosphere in the room, but Gar could tell.

“Hey,” Gar softly spoke, trying to capture his boyfriend’s attention away from his hand and onto his face; his eyes, more like. “Look at me.”

Slowly Pat let his gaze rise to meet back with Gar’s eyes. The eyes that were shining with all the love Gar felt for Pat, even through moments like these. No, especially through moments like these. Moments where Pat couldn’t find the proper words to express what he’s feeling, the anger or sorrow or whatever the case may be growing in his heart; moments where he could only use force to get it out; moments like these, that scared Gar for Pat’s wellbeing but also made him realize how glad he is that this love exists in his heart: because without it, Pat may not be around to share in it and love that’s shared between two people is the most beautiful kind. 

“Do you know what I feel underneath my hand right here?” Gar asked softly, motioning once more to the hand placed on the center of Pat’s chest.

“Dried paint?” Pat asked mockingly, causing Gar to shake his head with a small laugh, bringing his other hand up to run it through his hair shakily.

“No, not dried paint. I feel music, Patrck. I feel life, your life…and your love. I feel your anger creating a beat, one that hasn’t been played before now. I feel what many would call erratic beating of an angry heart, but what I call art. I love the way your heart beats, whether it’s slow and steady, or fast and racing, or even thumping so hard in your chest it feels like it is seconds away from exploding. I love it because it’s purely you. Your heart is what keeps you alive, what keeps you caring, and what keeps you here with me and that’s all I can ask for. I love your heart because without it, there would be no you. And I love you. Even when you’re angry or sad or just plain depressed with the world, my love for you only continues to grow.”

Gar’s hand that wasn’t lying on Pat’s chest made its way into a puddle of paint underneath the two, absentmindedly running his fingers in it. Slowly, without thinking, Gar let his finger make their way onto Patrck’s body, just below where his other hand was resting. Softly, so softly Pat could barely feel it, Gar’s fingers took charge and started drawing on his stomach, creating patterns and shapes, the most prominent being a heart. Neither noticed this motion take place too much, both too caught up in the words Gar was spilling and the way his eyes shone as he spoke. 

“Patrck, whatever reasons you may have had today to go out and buy all this paint in anger or rage or whatever this is, it doesn’t matter. I love you either way. I don’t care what faults you think you may have or any mistakes you may have made. To me, you are the definition of perfection and I couldn’t feel more lucky to have you in my life and to be able to call you mine. I love you because of every reason you may have to think of yourself as any less than perfect. I love you for giving me the chance to fall in love with you over and over again every day, every time I look in your eyes.” Pat’s heartbeat jumped slightly. Gar took both of his hands away from their positions, putting them on either side of Patrck’s face, cupping his cheeks and staring deeply into his eyes as he spoke the next few sentences. Pat stared right back, no anger left to be had in his body, only love and admiration for the person on top of him. He couldn’t even remember why he was mad in the first place, it all just seemed so miniscule to the love and joy he was feeling now.

“I love you because for everything you are and everything you ever have been or could be. I love you so much it physically pains me to see you with any emotion coursing through you other than happiness because that’s what you deserve. I love you with everything I have and I couldn’t be happier to call you my boyfriend because this kind of love is so hard to come by. I can’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world all because I have you.”

The smile on Pat’s face could light a world of pure darkness with ease. It seemed to reach for miles, making his eyes crinkle at the corners, lighting up his pupils in what could only be described as a look of pure longing and affection. It was a smile Gar could never get tired of seeing, and he hoped it was a smile that would last. It made every bone in his body tingle and his heart swell in his chest. He felt like he was on cloud nine just looking at that smile that covered the face of the man he fell in love with.

"You're such a sap, you know that?" Pat asked dreamily, stroking a loving, paint-covered hand through Gar’s thickly-matted, tangled hair. Gar let out a small chuckle.

"I know.” Gar responded, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “But did I cheer you up?" Pat rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s sudden eagerness, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Suuuurrrrreee, Gar, you win." It was a sarcastic response, but Gar knew he achieved his goal: Patrck’s temper was calming, the light in his eyes that was suddenly shining as bright as the sun itself gave that away quicker than anything. 

"Well, where's my prize, then?" Pat smirked at his boyfriend’s stupidly playful question.

"There will be time for that later." And with that said, Pat's lips softly landed against Gar's in a very colourful, and probably toxic, kiss as Dante bOrked happily in the background, rolling around in the paint. The two men payed the corgi no mind, too wrapped up in each other’s presence and the soft touch of lips that sealed their love and brought a new-found appreciation of paint into Gar’s heart.


End file.
